


I Told Myself I Wouldn't Keysmash So Instead You Get This Temporary Name Until I Find a Better One

by Goldstone_Wolf



Series: Dream Team Fics (Lol So Original) [30]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anyways, Dadza, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Food mentions, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Meatballs, Panic Attacks, Philza is Dadza, Possibly some swearing, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Spaghetti, TWs:, Trauma, Whump, Yelling, half this stuff is typed from memory, i think that's what it counts as, if i missed it lemme know, meatball sandwiches, more tba when my internet doesn't suck, ugh my internet it is crapping out on me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28709676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldstone_Wolf/pseuds/Goldstone_Wolf
Summary: "I love you, Tommy," Phil said, stepping over and setting a hand on his son's shoulder. Eyes cold, he continued, "but I don't like you very much right now."Breath catching in his throat, Tommy stared up at him.~Or, the crew accidentally triggers a flashback for Tommy with a simple line none of them knew was a trigger. Guess some things aren't as easy as they look, eh?
Relationships: TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: Dream Team Fics (Lol So Original) [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012464
Comments: 22
Kudos: 576





	I Told Myself I Wouldn't Keysmash So Instead You Get This Temporary Name Until I Find a Better One

**Author's Note:**

> TWs in tags. School starts back up tomorrow and I have to finish editing my books and get a map finished at youth group tonight (I love it but also I hate it at the same time I wish I didn’t have to go but I have literally passed out and still been forced to go.)  
> A person in my house is currently very angry so I’m curled up here listening to music with sound-cancelling stuff and a locked door. I’ll be fine, it’d be considered a crime if they hit me again (it was once, don’t yell at me in the comments, and also like six years ago) so they won’t. So…yeah, since I can’t edit my book without hearing shouting I’m doing fanfictions instead! (Seriously, don’t worry about me, made it through way worse than this stuff it’s been happening like every week cause of quarantine. I’m beyond used to it.)  
> Anyways, let’s get into this!

Phil stood over the smouldering wreckage, looking across it with his wings twitching.

Eyes narrowing, he turned to look at Tommy. There was a cold look to them, and Tommy fiddled with his sleeves for a few moments. “H-hey, P-Philza.” He forced out, voice shaking. Somewhere in the distance, one of the burning houses creaked and groaned before finally crashing down. Smoke billowed up in thick, choking grey clouds. Some embers fluttered down around them, landing on Phil’s shoulder. He reached up with one hand. Almost callously, he brushed the little flecks away and started walking towards Tommy. “Ph-Phil? Wh-what’s up?” He stepped back, eyes flicking from each of Phil’s like he was actually terrified of him. Like this wasn’t his dad in front of him, like it was someone else. Shaking, he swallowed nervously, hands going back and fingers trembling.

Phil’s eyes seemed to almost glow a darker tone, purple overtaking the blue in a swift motion. “Tommy, you…” Sighing, Phil looked out across the ruins. “Look at that. What did you do?”

“I-I-” Stammering, Tommy coughed and then looked away, backing up and avoiding eye contact. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to—”

“But you did. You’re no better than Wilbur. Or Schlatt.” Tommy flinched at that, squeezing his eyes shut and crossing his arms protectively around himself. Meanwhile, Phil kept advancing. “Look at this. You’ve done exactly what they did. Tommy.” A moment passed, and Tommy didn’t look at him. “Tommy!”

Reaching over, Phil slid his hand under Tommy’s jaw, tilted his face up so that their eyes met. There was actual fear there, and Tommy’s chest was jolting up and down with his breathing. Swallowing, he held Phil’s gaze for a moment. The harsh name echoed across the burning ruins in the canyon with the reverb of the crackling flames underlying it.

“Look at you. Everything you’ve become. You are no Theseus.” Shuddering, Tommy kept holding his gaze almost numbly, shivering like he expected Phil to strike him in that moment. He took a breath and then yanked away, stepping back a few times. “Tommy, you can’t run from this. You can’t run from me. It’s like trying to outrun Techno, or Dream.” Straightening up, Phil flared out his wings, the purple stripes glittering in the crackling flames and the bright sunbeams darting between the mix of ash-blackened billowing smoke and the silver and tin grey-white clouds dancing in the sky. “Tommy, you can’t outrun a god. Look at me!”

Shaking his head, Tommy whispered, “No. No, please.”

Phil sighed, wings dropping a little bit. Slowly, he crossed the space between them, boots crunching in the barren dirt around them. A few pebbles scattered underneath his feet, and Tommy stayed where he was, shaking violently like he was caught in a personal earthquake. He took a long breath, and Tommy looked up at him for a brief moment. “I love you, Tommy,” Phil said, stepping over and setting a hand on his son’s shoulder. Eyes cold, he continued, “but I don’t like you very much right now.”

Breath catching in his throat, Tommy stared up at him.

Phil blinked a few times and then stepped away, sighing and shaking his head. “I don’t know why I expected any better than you. You and your brother both deserved what you got.” Turning, he brushed by him, shoulder smacking against Tommy’s as he strode on. He kept walking, counting in his head how many steps he would have to go before Tommy retaliated. For a few seconds, nothing happened, and he heard some crunching in the dirt.

No words came.

Pausing, he turned and froze when he saw Tommy curled in the dirt on his knees. Something was wrong, he knew within an instant. “Dream, George, cut the cameras. Tubbo, let Pog go now.” He ordered, and the others did as told as he stepped over to Tommy, giving a wide berth like he was approaching a wild horse instead of his youngest. Wilbur and Techno made their way away from the crew as Pog raced over.

Tommy was curled up, forehead pressed to the dirt and his arms wrapped around his stomach like he’d been punched there. Sucking in a feeble breath, he stayed there for a moment as Pog moved in and gently nudged his face. Tears were running down his face, and Phil hesitated to reach for him until he set his hand on Tommy’s shoulder and immediately his son flinched back. _Okay, not that._ Cursing, Phil moved and sat down by Wilbur a couple feet away. Techno remained standing, placing himself between Tommy and the edge of the canyon they were working by. He glanced around, looked for something that could have caused the attack.

“I think it was the lines.” Wilbur whispered, leaning over and gently touching his shoulder. “The ‘I love you’ line. He was shaky already, but I think that was just the normal yelling anxiety.”

“I knew we should have filmed this in parts.” Sighing, Phil ran a hand over his face, moving to sit cross-legged in the dirt. Wilbur touched his shoulder.

“We’ll take care of it later.” They both glanced over to where Pog was tasking, somehow managing to get Tommy lying more on his side than hunched over in the dirt. “I’m going to go see if we need to try refilming. The answer is probably going to be no, the others are getting better at cutting stuff.” Slowly, Wilbur rose to his feet, touched Phil’s shoulder and brushed his pants off before walking over to the camera crew. Ranboo was watching with shock, and for the first time Phil realised that Ranboo probably hadn’t seen Tommy like this before.

Most of them had, at some point or other. It had been bound to happen, what with all the yelling and shouting and fighting. Sure, Tommy had a tendency to be reckless, and he had a tendency of hiding things, but they all carried food in their pockets in case he or someone else got low. It’d become a habit to just have snacks somewhere on set. Tommy hid them the best, which made for some pretty entertaining moments when everyone would find his random snack hiding places in the middle of a scene. Then they snapped back into character, and they would start working again as smoothly as possible. At the start, it’d been hard. Fundy and Tubbo had cracked up the most times. Once, Tommy got Dream to lose it in the middle of his “sun will set on my time here” speech to George. No one had ever forgotten that, and it was something Tommy prided himself.

Swallowing, Phil glanced back at his son, took a breath, and tried to reassure himself everything was going to be okay.

+++

When they got back to the sever house, Tommy disappeared into his room and Phil followed.

The door to his room was thrown open, and Tommy was curled on his bed with his shoes still on and his back to the hallway. Curled next to him, Pog thumped her tail a few times when Phil walked up. He knocked on the door. “Tommy? Do you mind if I come in?”

Tommy turned on his side, met his gaze with slightly glassy blue eyes, and then nodded his head before turning back over. Carefully, Phil looked around the room—the lights were off, which probably meant Tommy was getting a migraine from stress. As if he hadn’t dealt with enough already that day.

“Do you mind if I sit down here?” Phil asked, patting the bed by Tommy’s feet. Tommy shook his head, moved his legs a little bit, so Phil sat down beside him. Reaching over, he almost touched his son’s leg, then started carefully undoing his shoelaces as gently as possible. Pog’s brown eyes held his, and he took a breath. “Is there anything I can do to help right now?”

A shrug was his only response.

Pulling Tommy’s shoe off, Phil set it off to the side and started working on the other one. “Well, we’re not going to have to refilm that scene, so try not to beat yourself up about it. Okay?” He reached over, rubbed Tommy’s shoulder once, then went back to the shoelaces. “Bad’s making dinner downstairs, but you don’t have to go down if you don’t want to. I’d say we have…thirty minutes. If you want to, no one’s going to expect you to talk, I’ll make sure to let everyone know.” Nodding, Tommy stayed where he was. “And if someone _does_ try to get you to talk when you don’t want to, I’m sure Tubbo’ll beat them up for you. Alright, bud?” A faint smile crossed his son’s face, and Phil rubbed his shoulder again after setting his other shoe down. “I’ll come check in on you before dinner. If you don’t want to come down, I’ll just bring you your food.” Ruffling Tommy’s hair, he bent down and kissed his forehead before laying a blanket over him and Pog both, then slipped from the room quietly.

When he got downstairs, he noticed Ranboo was watching him. The hybrid teleported all the way over to him, which was…odd. Normally Ranboo didn’t teleport unless he was outside the house. “Phil!” In a hushed tone, Ranboo grabbed his arm and asked, “Is Tommy okay? Is everything fine—”

“Don’t worry, Pog has a handle on this.” Touching his arm, Phil smiled reassuringly. Ranboo still didn’t seem convinced. “She’s his service dog, she knows what to do, Ranboo. I promise.”

“O-okay.” Ranboo went back to Eret, glancing back at the stairs several times with a concerned look on his face even as he settled into the couch. Eret ruffled his head, a soft smile on their face, and then they looked to Phil and the look switched to sympathetic. Nodding once, Phil ducked into the kitchen and looked over what Bad was making. For the most part, everyone stayed pretty quiet.

When Tommy came down for dinner, everyone said hi and kept the conversation down.

Stabbing at the spaghetti noodles with his fork, Tommy took a breath. Pog was right next to him, resting her head in his lap. She wasn’t begging for food, just keeping an eye on him. “I’d say we give it another two weeks before doing the next episode.” George commented, and Sapnap nodded where he was shoving a meatball sandwich into his mouth. If Phil didn’t know any better, he would guess Sapnap was attempting to unhinge his jaw and swallow the thing whole.

“It was pretty good, actually. The last scene looks perfect.” Sapnap mumbled around the sandwich, and George stared at him in disgust while Skeppy decided, apparently, to try competing with him.

“If the two of you end up choking, I’m not helping you.” George commented, and Bad nodded. “ _Also,_ don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Well, I’m glad that the scene went well.” Phil mused, smiling weakly. Beside him, Tommy straightened up and shot him a look, holding his hands up and dropping his fork.

_“You’re fine, I overreacted.”_ He mused dismissively, rolling his eyes as he signed the words out. Across the table, Ranboo gaped at him.

“You can _sign?”_ Ranboo asked. Glancing over, Tommy nodded. “That’s so cool.”

Shrugging, Tommy wrinkled his nose and shook his head. Beside Ranboo, Eret cleared his throat. “That’s actually because of me.” When Ranboo glanced over, he shrugged sheepishly and said, “Phil took me in for a little bit when I was younger, after I had to leave.”

“Oh, really. What happened?” Ranboo paused, then slapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“Nah. I was outed, and then there was a violent reaction. I chose to leave.” With a shrug, Eret continued, “When Phil and Tech took me to the house I was pretty much in so much emotional shock I physically couldn’t talk. Chose not to for a couple days. So, instead of just trying to force me, or anyone else that they picked up in the future for however long,” he glanced over at Dream, who laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, “who didn’t feel like talking or couldn’t hear, they picked up sign language.”

“Wow. That’s…impressive.”

“It’s useful. We can talk to more people, communicate to each other silently in bad situations or when we don’t want some people to know what we’re talking about.” Tubbo replied, and Sapnap nodded.

Glancing around, Ranboo asked, “You _all_ know sign?”

“Well, not Minx. She hasn’t picked it up between all the stress-baking.” Schlatt cracked, and Minx slammed her cup down on the table and shot him a furious look.

“I will screw you up, Schlatt. Just wait. Stab you like my White Claw.”

“So you’ll run out of the room screaming, then?” Leaning on the table, Schlatt shot her a grin and was apparently unaware of the fact he was currently dipping his white button-up’s sleeve in red spaghetti sauce.

“Schlatt, your sleeve.” Tubbo reminded, and Tommy snickered off to the side. Looking down, Schlatt let out a loud curse and then got up, running to the sink and pulling off his shirt. “Schlatt!”

“Come on, man, at least put on a show!” Sapnap cracked, and Schlatt flipped him off before shrugging out of his shirt. Underneath, he apparently had on a black tank top, and he threw the shirt into the sink as Bad went to grab ice cubes. The conversation continued, and Phil glanced over at Tommy where he was laughing and signing inside jokes to Tubbo with a bright grin on his face.

Turning back to the conversation, Phil jumped back in with a flick of his wings, hearing the rain patter on outside.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully that one was pretty good, it took a while. Anyways, originally I was going to show what Tommy was witnessing, but I’ll just summarise it here—the someone told him “I love you, but I don’t like you very much right now” is the same person as who told him to “get a handle” on the panic attacks and passing out without doing much more than that, as well as a few other conversations.  
> Anyways, there is going to be a fic with Eret and Dream interacting with the SBI in the house pre-series, I’m just going to say that the AUs have completely merged at this point because I don’t know how else to work with it. So…that’s why this is located in the PogAU thing. Eret’s fic is going to be sweeter, I just need to figure out how to handle it, and the Dream one is…angstier, I’m just going to admit it here.  
> Also, a note, anything that is italics and quotes is sign language. That’s how I’ve put it in my books (originally it was just the italics, but I did some research and decided I prefer it with the quotes since it is a language), and it’s also not a perfect translation because I suck at glossing and haven’t had much chance to work on it. Additionally, usual disclaimers—I am hearing (took one class in ASL; that was also before I realised that my tendency to shut down during conflicts actually might mean I have nonverbal moments like Tommy does here) and I do not own a service dog, so there are bound to be some issues. I apologise for any present ones.  
> Anyways, thanks for reading. Y’all are loved and appreciated and awesome and amazing, I hope you have a lovely day, and I hope to see you in the next one!


End file.
